Light me up
by vampirerose49
Summary: Bobby's story...After living in the closet for so long, will he, with the help of Mocha Girl, be able to face himself and accept his identity? And what role will Cheddar Whizzy play in his life? Bobby/Max *Warning*- sex & drugs & rock 'n' roll ensues.
1. 1 Prologue: The Man

He slid forward in his chair, slipping easily against the finished wood, trying to get comfortable. He bit the tip of his pencil thoughtfully before bringing it once again to the paper. The pencil left a thick, red curve of colour against the stark white sheet, which was dotted with little black numbers. He drew a lopsided Martian, whose tentacles fell flatly down to the bottom of the paper, only to curl up again right before the very edge where the white stopped and air began. It was no use—these seats just weren't comfortable. He glanced over to the kid sitting to the left of him, to see if he was faring any better. The kid, a freshman, looked petrified, he held his head in his hands, had his legs tucked beneath the chair, his body was tense, and every so often, his emitted a low, pained groan that sounded like a cat weeping.

Bobby burped loudly and continued sloppily doodling on his math homework. He switched to a bright green crayola.

"Hey, kid," he said suddenly. The freshman flinched and looked at him tentatively, "If you were a one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people-eater…not saying you—you look like one, compren-day, ba-bay? Uhhhh…what colour do you think you would be?" He rifled through his plastic, zip-lock bag of pencils. The kid wrinkled nose and stared at him critically, eyeing his tinted glasses and ratty Mohawk with distaste.

"Uhhhmm…yell-ow?" Bobby pulled a sunny pencil from the bag and showed it to him. The freshman groaned, shook his head, and resumed his fetal position. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Huh."

"Robert Zimmeruski! Get in here!" Mazur's faced peered out from the doorway of his office, his gums showing angrily.

"Yeah, Ma-z-u-ur!" He called in response as he gathered up his back-pack, crudely stuffing the plastic bag and colour-splotched paper into it. He brushed off some of the cheese whiz that was still stuck to the front of his purple shirt before strolling casually into the office.

"Hey, catch you 'round, compadre!" He snapped lazily to the motionless freshman before closing the door behind him.

"So, whassup, brah?"

"Zimmeruski," Principle Mazur pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control his frustration, "Once again, you have created an interference during class. Mrs. Cabaniss called me…" He leaned across his wide desk threateningly, "Just how many of those thing do you have, anyway? Those aerosol cans?"

Bobby bit his tongue in thought and leaned his head against the back of the chair, which was considerably more comfortable than the ones outside. Finally he shrugged his shoulders dismissingly.

"As many that will fit in the pack, Maz-man."

The man glared down at him, trying to ignore the abuses of his name, "Why do you bring them to school? What purpose could they possibly serve?"

"Duuuude, it's not 'bout the purpose," he said, laughingly, "Though, lemme say, they do come in handy sometimes, but, like, it's all about the pow-wer!"

The principle's lower eyelid twitched and he fell back into his custom leather office chair. "The-the power…" He muttered bitterly, digging his knuckle into his forehead. He took a breath and settled his elbows on the edge of the desk, trying to appear as menacing as possible. "Zimmeruski…"

"Bobby."

"What?"

"Dude, call me 'Bobby'. It freaks me out when people call me by my last name, brah," Bobby helped himself to a handful of the pistachios Mazur kept in a little glass bowl on the desk, intended for the parents of students.

Mazur cleared his throat, "Right. 'Bobby'," he said condescendingly, eyeing the trail of nut shells gathering next to the slowly emptying bowl, "And you can call me 'Principle Mazur' or 'sir'."

"Righteous, brah," the teen pumped his fist in the air limply. Mazur was starting to notice that every movement that the boy made was…sort of slow, fluid, and careless. He rubbed his chin.

"Bobby," he started again, "Have you been…Robert, take off those glasses! Give them to me…Bobby, have you been engaging in any form of drug useage?" He finished as he folded the tinted glasses and set them on the edge of the desk. Without them, the boy's eyes were small, squinty, and encircled with bags and light purplish discolouration. The student was motionless, staring ahead blankly.

"Dude, you, like, took my shades. Not cool," Bobby mumbled, averting his eyes to the floor, suddenly uncomfortable." Mazur couldn't help but grin—he finally had him right where he wanted him: nervous and uncomfortable.

"Have you been taking drugs, Zimmeruski?" He repeated seethingly.

"Huh? Oh, no way man, I'm clean—crys-tol, pis-tol," the teenager said absent-mindedly, fiddling with an empty shell.

"Hmmmm…well, we'll see about that. In the meantime, Zimmeruski, I want you to start seeing Mrs. Anderson." Bobby's face contorted at the mention of the name, and his body straightened to attention.

"Dude, no way! Look, I'll be cool, man, I swear! Pinkie-swear! Just don't send me to the shrink! I'll be cool!"

Mazur was silent, deep in thought. He sighed and relaxed into his chair. "Look, Bobby… how about this. I'll let you off this time-"

"Oh, man, you will not—" The teen started rapturously.

"BUT!" The principle raised a thick finger, "If there is even one more incident for the rest of the school year…you are not only going to start having regular sessions with Mrs. Anderson, she will determine whether or not you need to start taking some sort of medication for your…hyperactivity. Understand?" His tone was cold and final. Bobby gulped and nodded hesitantly.

"Got it."

"Good. You may go now, Zimmeruski."

He got up to leave, heaving the bulging pack onto his back with a strained movement. He turned.

"Oh, and Zimmeruski?"

He froze.

"Don't forget your glasses," Mazur held them out to him, a gloating grin plastered across his features.

He lit the joint with a swift click of the cigarette lighter and took a puff before shoving the metal case back into his pants pocket. The spot behind the sporting equipment shed, like always, was barren. The yelling and violence of the nearby football field echoed ominously in the background. He let himself slide down the rough, plastic side of the little building, settling himself on the ground with his knees tucked to his chest. He took another hit.

"Bobby!"

He turned at the sound of his name and found himself facing…Max Goof's furry, black kneecaps.

"Yo, Max-man! Lookin' good, lookin' good," he adjusted his shades on the bridge of his nose, so they better covered his eyes, "Dude, where's Pete?"

The black-haired teen cracked a lop-sided grin and gestured towards the school building with a jab of his thumb.

"Make-up quiz," he said simply before letting his back-pack fall heavily to the ground and settling beside his friend. Bobby held the joint out to him, an invitation, though he already knew the answer.

"No, thanks, man. Gotta keep in shape for boarding, you know that," Max said pleasantly. Bobby snorted.

"Never stopped me…"

Max didn't reply. Instead, he pulled his lunch out of his pack and unwrapped a P&J sandwich. He bit into it hungrily. The orange-haired boy watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"Got called to see 'The Man' again, today, brah," he said casually, raising the rolled paper to his lips. Max paused mid-chew and turned to his companion.

"Cheeze Whiz?" He said, his words slurred by sticky peanut-butter.

"During English, ye-ah."

"Bull again?"

"OH, yeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah…"

"What did he do this time?"

"He, like…uh, kept calling my shit and throwin' shit at my head. But the power of Cheddar made him righteous. It was pretty cool."

Max's brow furrowed as he chewed thoughtfully. "Dude," he said, "Why is he making such a huge deal over you, anyway? It's like he's got a personal vendetta against you…"

Bobby forced a grin, his eyes obscured by the dark glasses: "Yeah. It would be kinda awesome if it didn't hurt my head so much." They laughed.

"So what did Mazur say," the dark-haired boy said while chewing. The pothead was silent for a moment, sucking the tip of the joint thoughtfully.

"Uh…he said some shit like if I cause another scene, I'm gonna have to go to shrink sessions with the local witch-doctor," he tried to speak casually, but the words came out bitter and uneasy. Max paused, his mouth open to receive another bite. He lowered the sandwich.

"Jeez, Bobby," he said, his forehead rumpled with concern. He gripped his friend's shoulder reassuringly. Bobby flinched slightly and adjusted his glasses.

"No, man…It'll be—It'll work out," he interjected as cheerfully as he could and pushed the hand from his shoulder, "Just gotta watch my step, yeah? Hey, you got any extra munchies in there?"

Max rolled his eyes. "Again?" He rummaged through his pack. "Man, you need to take care of yourself…" He pulled out an apple and a granola bar wrapped in shiny metallic-looking plastic and handed them to Bobby, who took a long, deep breath from his joint before extinguishing it on the concrete and receiving the food. He bit into the apple ravenously. Max watched curiously, twiddling a strand of grass in-between his fingers.

"Hey, anyway…" The black-haired boy started, "I mean, it's your senior year, right? Our senior year. Even if you do end up having to go see the shrink, it's not gonna be for that long…like, once a week for the last semester, right? It's not that bad."

Bobby swallowed a chunk of apple painfully, the sharp edges of the skin hurt against the inside of his throat as he coughed. The chunk came back up and he resumed chewing it.

"You okay?" Max said.

"Brah, it's not about the time" Bobby blurted, "…it's about 'The Man'—they want to dig into my brain an', like, wash it. That ain't gonna happen. No one's gonna get into Bobby Z's brain!"

Max raised an eyebrow, and couldn't help but let a grin cross over his face. He wrapped an arm around his friend's neck, pulling him into a headlock.

"Man, you are such a weirdo!" He laughed, cramming his fist into the hipster's mohawk. Bobby was silent and unresponsive. He was listening to his friend's heart beating against his ear. The Goof-boy's chest was warm and solid against the side of his face. He suddenly felt an overwhelming exhaustion creeping through his consciousness.

The bell rang out across the campus.

Math class.

The teacher, a man with a grey moustache and a shiny, bald head, stood at the front of the classroom talking. No one listened—they had better things to do: sleeping, listening to their walkmans, daydreaming.

Bobby Zimmeruski felt the thirteenth ball of paper and spit hit the back of his neck, sending a startling chill through his spine. Beside him, Max Goof sat dazed and oblivious. Four tables behind him, Bull D. Toro was preparing his next attack, chewing a wad of torn homework between his massive jowls. The bulldog was already getting bored; his tactics were to no avail—his victim was unresponsive, and he was slowly losing interest in the game. He decided he needed a back-up plan.

When the spit-balls finally ceased, Bobby sighed in relief. He had survived the barrage without a scene—he would survive this class. He went back to colouring his one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people-eater a bright, sunny yellow.

Six minutes until the bell, and school would be over.

Five and a half.

Five.

Someone sitting behind him tapped him on the back and slid a folded note into his palm from under the table. He took it and, seeing the word "faggot" crudely scrawled on it, he assumed it was for him, and he opened it. Four tables behind him, Bull grinned devilishly.

He slowly folded up the note, making sure that no one else had seen it, pushed it into his pocket, and, grabbing his backpack from the floor, stood up.

Max whispered his name and tried to pull him back into his seat, but to no avail.

Cheddar Whizzy streamed through the air.

**Author's Note**

!I do not own this chapter! I just got permission by the talented u/4328333/Nick-ed to finish it and I will do my best. From chapter 3 and on wards will be totally created by me. But this and next chapter still belongs to Nick-ed!

**Random Notes**

-The Freshman: Got sent to the office for eating in the library. Taboo.

-One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying, Purple People-Eaters: These creatures are usually…purple, just for the record.

-The Joint: Bobby is a pot-head hipster, and he was high throughout every single Goofy movie. You know it, I know it, I'm pretty sure everyone else kinda knew it.

-Bull D. Toro: A completely fictional character, any resemblance to your mom is purely coincidental. No, but, seriously…he's just a plot device and serves no greater purpose. Oh, and he's a bull-dog (duh).

-Cheddar Whizzy: Can be found at your local grocery-store, if you happen to live in the 90's. Or if you happen to know someone with a T.A.R.D.I.S.


	2. 2 Coffe and Colours

The room was quiet, warm, and filled with the aroma of coffee and blueberry scones. Musicians tinkered around on the stage, fiddling idly with their instruments, and no one seemed to mind. Little groups of people huddled themselves around their respective tables, casually chattering, grateful that they have a place to socialize.

Outside, cool rain tumbled its way through the muggy air.

They sat in the back, in a shadowed corner by the edge of the stage.

"…So I said to the man, I said: 'fear not the probabilities, embrace the possibilities, because the future is wrought with them, and if you look upon the future from a positive perspective, you will feel the vibrations of knowing—knowing that you do not have high hopes for yourself, and therefore will be more able to reach your goals. It is a higher level of consciousness…" Pete tilted his beret dramatically and sipped his 'Caramel Macchiato'. Mocha eyed him lustily.

"Oh, Buddha-Boy, he who has reached the higher plane of imagination!" She flourished her long fingers and let them trail along his forearm. Bobby and Max exchanged confused looks.

"Riiiiight…" Bobby scoffed, "'Vibrations'. I assume these be 'Good Vibrations', du-ude, yeah?"

Pete Jr. scowled at him disapprovingly. At his side, Max chuckled lightly and tore a piece from his raspberry scone.

"I mean… those are the vibrations that really, like, count, right?" He continued sarcastically, "And they, like, move along the 'instant karma' with their waaaaaves…"

Mocha Girl frowned, having had listened to Bobby's comments for the last hour was grating on her nerves. She leaned forward on her elbow, "Look, fuzz-head," she snapped, "The B-Dog knows what he speaks through divine consciousness, unlike you, who talks out of blindness and the confusion of clouded energy."

Bobby shifted his tinted glasses on the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat, "You know, my little bongo-babe, why don't you explain to me exactly what you mean by that…you're kinda starting to hurt my delicate feelings, here, brah," he said confrontationally. He was getting tired of sitting on the sidelines. Beside him, Max was laughing nervously and nudging him gently to stop, but he ignored him. The poet was silent for a moment, but then a wide, impish grin spread across her full, red lips.

"Oh, you want me to read you?" She said mysteriously, "I'll have you know, that I'm one of the best readers around, 'brah'." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back in concentration, positioning her hands in a Buddha-like stance. Bobby looked at Max, who simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. When he turned back to the girl, she was leaning forward on the table and stirring her coffee with a long spoon.

"Okay, non-believer," she started slowly and casually, "From what I see in your energy, you…hide yourself from the people around you. This is most probably due to some traumatic experience from your childhood. You deny yourself, and try to drown yourself in your pot and drugs so that you don't have to face your divine identity. This probably has something to with your closeted ho—"

"Whoa! Jesus, Bobby! Watch—crap!"

Bobby had somehow managed to get a lukewarm cup of coffee from across the table into PJ's lap, and the large teen flailed his arms in a panic. "'Scuse me, my little mocha latte…I need to go discover the facilities." He left, leaving a little trail of puddles after him.

Max, Bobby, and Mocha Girl sat at the table; tension was thick in the air. Bobby pointed at the entrance.

"Smoke?" He said. It wasn't a question, and she sensed this. She scooted out of her seat, and the two walked out of the front door.

Max sat alone at the table, his face twisted in confusion. With a sigh, he decided to get another latte.

"How do you know those things? Who told you to say that?" Bobby bared his teeth.

They stood underneath the shallow shelter of the building. Two feet from them, drops of rain fell heavily against the slick concrete. Mocha Girl snickered and crossed her arms.

"I told you I was accurate," she grinned. The short-haired boy frowned.

"That…is…bullshit," he spat. Then his face changed…the anger dissolved into sadness, and he leaned back against the wall. He was silent for a moment, thinking. "Did…someone talk to you? Call you? A man or a woman?" He felt panic rush into his brain.

Mocha Girl laughed melodically and shook her head. "Wow," she said, "You are as dense as they come…" She stood at his side and touched his shoulder comfortingly. "I read you…I can see energies. I might sound kinda crazy, but it's not actually that uncommon. It's like seeing your emotions in colours." She squinted her eyes at him, "Like, right now, you're energy is kinda crazy and dark…you're scared…you feel threatened…and you're confused."

"Hell yes, I'm confused!" Bobby ran his gloved fingers across his scalp in frustration, "You know things about me no one was ever supposed to know, and you say it's because…you're psychic?"

She snorted. "I'm not 'psychic'," she said with a wave of her hand, "I'm just…more 'in touch' with people's emotions…it's a gift and a curse."

It was Bobby's turn to snort. "How could something like that be a 'curse'?"

"I meet head-cases like you."

"Ah. Ha."

Silence.

"So…" He started slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as if his head hurt, "Let's just say you can, like, 'read me'," he looked at her, his brow furrowed and his eyes hidden behind his shades, "Finish what you were saying back inside."

She shifted her stance, putting her hand on her hip. "You mean right before you dumped coffee on my Buddha-Boy?"

"Duh."

She bit her bottom lip. "You know, I only really said those things to mess with you, because you were bringing down the karmic levels with your obnoxiousness…"

"Finish."

She nodded.

"Like I said before, you have insecurity issues, probably due to some past…something, so you try to make up for it by acting the weirdo…the clown." she leaned back against the wall, which was cold and damp from the moisture. "You hide yourself from the people around you, you have problems reaching out and trusting people. You obviously have repressed feelings for Max, and—"

"Stop."

"Huh?"

Bobby felt dizzy and nauseous. He slid down the wall and crouched on the ground, his hands covering his head. He felt like he could cry. Or throw up.

"You okay, Bob-boy?" Mocha Girl knelt down and laid a hand on his back, rubbing her light fingers in circles around his spine.

"I believe you…" He whispered, "I never told anyone about that before… Ever…"

She looked at him, and felt a wave of guilt wash over her. "Look, kid," she said, "You gotta get these things sorted out."

He lifted his face, staring out at the blank wall before them. "How could you tell…about that?" He said quietly.

"Your energy…it was reaching out to him, even if your body wasn't. I could actually tell before I knew your names, when you guys were just sitting inside." She laughed. "It was pretty funny, actually…you trying to flirt with me. Kind of pathetic."

Bobby emitted a coughing laugh, and she could tell that he was crying.

"Yeah…well, I was just trying…to…huh…I don't even know. I guess I was just trying to get attention…y'know…" His voice trailed off. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't worry about it, compadre. It wasn't too painfully irritating."

They sat like this, crouched down in the alcove in front of 'The Bean' coffee shop, the rain drizzling around them, encompassing the streets, the buildings. There were no more words exchanged, and half an hour later, Max and PJ emerged from the café, Bobby wiped his face and assumed a behaviour of extreme animation, and they went their separate ways.

"I should be being paid for this," Mocha Girl crossed her legs and settled back into the smooth, soft material of her couch. Across from her, sitting on a padded footstool, Bobby twiddled with his fingers and grinned weakly.

"Heh. You're asking a college kid about money," he said jokingly, "Obviously, you're not as all-knowing as you claim to be."

"I never claimed anything."

He shut up.

"Want some tea?" She got up and went over to the small kitchen area, "Might help you relax and get in touch with your inner you."

"Uh, sure. Inner me…like, my stomach?"

The dark-haired girl ignored him and set out two mugs while a pot of water simmered behind her. She returned to her spot on the couch, spreading her arms across the backboard casually. There was an awkward silence; Bobby stared at the patterned rug, his mind wandering.

"Uhm…do you want to start, much? Time is precious to me." She leaned forward. He jumped, snapping back into reality.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry. Spacing out, there…" He cleared his throat, "So, I guess I should start at the beginning, right? Yeah, so—"

"Glasses."

"What?"

"Off," she indicated at his shades, and he felt himself tense up.

"Uhhh…Is that really necessary…?"

"Hey, you're lucky I'm doing this for you. I'm taking time out of my life, my meditation time, my yoga time, my writing time…"

"Okay, okay! Jeez louise…" He slipped off the glasses and set them on the coffee table before him. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the apartment. He swallowed and began again:

"So, when I was in high school, it was, like, my senior year, and I kinda got into trouble for various things and got sent to see the school shrink, Mrs. Anderson. I really didn't want to go…you know, I thought she was going to try and get into my head and play weird mind games, but…she was actually pretty cool. She…she actually helped me a lot with my problems. And she kept everything, you know…under wraps. Nothing left that room, which was awesome. I told her a lot. About my problems at school, at home, with my parents, and drugs, and…I told her about my…'gay-ness', and she didn't, like, freak. I never told her 'zactly who I liked, and she never asked, which…yeah. That was fine.

"Anyway, after all that, she ended up getting sick and she had to, like, quit. It was awful. I was totally lost without this woman. So, 'the man' (uh, that's Prince Mazu-u-ur) ended up putting this other chick in, and I was supposed to go to her instead, but…man, I-I don't know, she, like, found my files, or something…because, the first time I went in to see her, she…like, was going on about my 'sins' and how my soul can still be saved. She totally freaked me out, and I got the hell outta there. Scared the shit outta me. Jesus. She was, like, telling me that if I went to church and found the right girl…it was, just…argh! ANYWAY, I skipped. I went home. Now, my dad, he usually worked until, like, 6:00, right? His car was parked out front, and it was only 4:00. It was really weird. So I went inside…and…uh…"

His voice trembled and broke.

"Uhm…so, he was inside waiting for me. He caught me when I was trying to sneak upstairs to my room to get my stuff, 'cuz I was gonna…I dunno, hide somewhere, and he just…grabbed me and started yelling at me. It was fucking insane. He was throwing me all over the place and b-beating the s-shit outta m-me…a-and…fuck."

He covered his face with his hands, trying to catch his breath and hold back the tears that filled his eyes. Mocha Girl stared at him, her arms crossed as if she were cold. The tea-kettle screamed.

"Take a moment, take a break. I'll get the tea," she went and switched off the bright-red, electric eye. The scream wobbled and died down. She poured the steaming liquid into two dark-green mugs, brought them out, and set them on the table. Bobby rubbed his round forehead, trying to compose himself. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his light-green t-shirt and grinned weakly at the girl.

"Sorry. I've never told anyone about this before…" He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn't working very well, "It's kinda hard to…I dunno…say, I guess."

Mocha Girl sipped her tea, her legs were crossed on the seat of the couch. "It's the first step towards emotional and spiritual cleansing," she said bluntly, "Get it out of your system."

He nodded.

"So…" He continued, "I eventually got away, and I bunked at PJ's place. I just told him some crap about painting my room, or something. Then we graduated and came here. Yeah…so…" He paused for a moment, picking at the edge of his pants absentmindedly, "Uh…that's about it. Hey…" He looked up, "If you can read people, you can read Max, right?"

"No."

"Great! Then you can tell me if he's cool with…wait, what?"

"I said 'no'."

"But…why? Does he have, like, a magical force-field that makes it so you can't…like, see through it…an' stuff?"

"Oh, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby…" Mocha Girl stirred her tea with the tip of her finger, "I'm not going to make it that easy…this is something you guys need to work out for yourselves, got it? No shortcuts."

Bobby pouted and gulped his tea.

"Hey," she said.

"What?"

She shrugged her shoulders coyly. "I'm sorry about all that stuff that happened to you," she said sympathetically.

The orange-haired boy reddened slightly. "Meh, it's fine. It's done." He waved his hand dismissingly. He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to listen to my whining," he chuckled. He reached for his glasses. "I owe you one. Or two. I think it really helped…y'know…getting it off my chest. It's kinda been sitting there for a while…"

"Stagnating."

"Ri-ight, yeah. That."

"If you ever need to talk again," she said, getting up from the couch and leading him to the door, "feel free to call me. Well, within reason. No late night calls, or anything."

"Roger, ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am'."

"…Right. Sorry."

She closed the front door behind him. Outside, the sun was shining brightly and the foliage on the ground below the apartment glowed with life.

He put his glasses back on and the world got a little bit darker.

**Authour's Note**

!I do not own this chapter! I just got permission by the talented u/4328333/Nick-ed to finish it and I will do my best. From chapter 3 and on wards will be totally created by me. But this and the first chapter still belongs to Nick-ed!

A longer chapter, which is good, right? A longer chapter filled with angst and totally fabricated back-story garbage. But it's fun, right?

None of the movies ever really delved into Bobby's character, so it was kinda free to wreak havoc, well within reason :P

**Random Notes**

-Coffee: I know nothing about coffee, I don't drink it or anything.


	3. 3 Nightmares and Smoke

Bobby's sleep was tormented with nightmares. He woke up sweaty and bit his lower lip to not scream out loud as the last shadows of the bad dreams vanished to the deepest corners of his mind, where he could no longer remember them. The sheets lay on the floor and somehow, he had managed to throw his pillow to the other side of the room. He sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly and cast a glance at the digital watch. The yellow, glowing numbers told him it was still late at night. He sighed and went out of bed. Right across the room he could see the silhouette of Max's back.

Bobby walked towards it and looked down at his snoring friend. The friend the he had known since he had helped Max with lip-syncing Powerline. He smiled at the memory. It had been freaking amazing and worth every extra summer assignment 'The man' had given him. The red-head's smile diminished. Was that friendship under threat? Mocha Girl's words rang through his brain: _This is something you guys need to work out for yourselves, got it? No shortcuts. _

"Yeah… right…" Bobby whispered. "But how?"

And was it even necessary to work it out? He had kept quiet for so long that he had sort of forgotten all about it. The fact that he was homosexual had never really disturbed him. It was a detail he had just accepted and without any extra thoughts, he had let it be. According to him, it wasn't something to make a huge fuzz about. And when the day came and (against any odds, Bobby wasn't sure he actually cared about finding 'The one') he would fall in love, well, he just had to deal with it when and if it happened. But he had never thought that the subject for his…emotions would come to be Maximillian Goof!

Named teen suddenly let out a dull grunt and turned around, now facing Bobby. The hipster held his breath, but Max didn't wake up. The red-haired boy sighed in relief.

No, Bobby had not thought much about how he would 'deal' with his 'gay-ness'. He was a person who took days as they came by. But he could not overlook the conversation with Mocha and deep inside he knew she was right. He needed to confront himself and in time, confront Max…

"Heck…" he spitted out and let his eyes drop to the floor.

"Bobby? Buddy, are you okay?"

Bobby twitched at the sound of PJ's slumberous voice and turned around hastily with wide eyes. The big student in the upper bed eyed him questioningly.

"Man, you look like you've been caught with the hand in the cookie jar." PJ stated and looked at Max who was still sleeping, unaware of the conversation around him.

"You're not planning to strangle Maxie, are you?" PJ asked with a tired smile. Bobby smiled back.

"No. I was just…eh…sleepwalking! That's what I did!"

PJ looked at his friend little convinced. Bobby ignored him and went to the bathroom. He locked the door and studied himself in the cupboard mirror. His eyes were red edged due to the lack of sleep and underlined with dark shadows. In other words; he looked like crap. He broke the eye contact with his own reflection and opened the cupboard. He started to look for something hidden at the back of it. After a few seconds he pulled out a small plastic bag filled with ready-made joints and a lighter.

"I got serious problems…" he murmured to himself. Something was wrong when he hid those things even from his friends. He knew it but did nothing to change it.

He lit one of the cigarettes, hid the others and sat down on the toilette as he let the smoke fill the air. Soon he felt the numbness take hold of his body and the troublesome thoughts left his mind. He flushed what was left of the joint and then sprayed the bathroom with an air cleaner, (PJ had insisted that they needed one).

Bobby went back to the naked bed with a body that felt both heavy as a stone and light as a feather at the same time. He didn't even care to pick up the pillow and sheets. Above him he could hear the loud snoring of Pete Junior. Somehow the sound felt comforting and soon Bobby drifted off into deep, dreamless slumber.

The next day passed by as the college days used to. Lessons at noon, lunch, more lessons and everything rounded up with the three friends' regular touch of humor. Bobby had totally forgotten about last night's happenings. At least until the evening when the three as usual visited the Bean Scene.

"Fear is but a bird

A bird with wings as black as the sky

And a heart like the dawn's treacherous lie

Crush this heart with the spear of your righteousness

Spread your wings and fly

Even though fear is an inevitable curse

The bird will be no more."

"Oooh… Deeep!" Bobby stated when Mocha Girl bowed to the snapping audience. "Care to tell me what it means, you wise B-boy?" he continued with a mischievously grin and looked at PJ. The black haired student gave him a look that told him to shut up, tipped his beret dramatically and followed Max to order some coffee.

"I thought you would lie low with your inappropriate insults, taken out of thin air. Especially after what I did for you." Bobby turned around to face the dark haired girl, whose smooth movements made it look like she was floating through the room. Bobby just shrugged and went to look for a table. Sudden discomfort came over him and he sank down at a table in one of the corners. The poet graciously sat down and looked at him. Bobby tried to look everywhere but at her.

"You've been thinking", she suddenly said and pointed at his head with her long finger.

"And that surprises you? Babe, I feel offended." The red-head smiled widely and laughed, trying to ease up the tension and get the conversation on another trail then the inevitable one. Mocha Girl raised an eyebrow.

"You've been thinking about our tal…"

"Woa! Hush, brah! Keep it down!" Bobby burst out and waved his arms in a 'downwards' movement, like he was trying to lift of. Mocha rolled her eyes and then closed them. She rubbed her forehead slightly with her fingertips before she looked at the boy before her.

"Look," she said. "You can't keep going like this. I can see in your eyes that they are screaming out for help, even though your lips and actions keep telling people that you're fine. And it's not just about Max, it's…"

"What isn't 'bout me?" the slim teen sat down besides Bobby with a steamy cup of coffee and a plate with some sort of pie.

"The universe, the meaning of life, all the mysteries of cosmos," Bobby said with a voice that cracked at the end. The other three looked at him with big, confused eyes.

"Oookey…" PJ started and cleared his throat. "Anyway… Because the purpose of art is the arousal of emotions, I brought you a cup of delicious latte, my little Wiener mélange." He handed over a white cup to the black dressed poet and received a kiss on the cheek in return. Max ignored them and took a big bite out of his pie.

"That was a great performance by the way. A bit darker than your usual work," Max said with his mouth filled with dough and something that looked like strawberries. Mocha Girl put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her linked hands.

"Let's just say… Yesterday, I got the inspiration for writing something like that." A little smile appeared on her perfectly painted lips. Bobby wasn't sure, but he could almost swear that her eyes for a moment were resting on him. He wished the floor to open up under him and swallow him whole.

They sat at the Bean for a while, laughing and talking. People eventually started to find their ways home and close to closing time, Bobby and his friends were the only one left.

"I'm gonna get another one. You want something, my macchiato?" PJ asked his girlfriend as he sat down his empty cup and stood up.

"Sure," Mocha answered and pulled out her chair.

"You sit down. I get it for you," PJ responded with a light bow.

"No. It is better I get it myself. I must look at the menu to be sure of what I want." PJ looked at her questioningly but she stood up and walked over to him. Before they went to get their orders she looked at Bobby with a meaningful gaze.

"Bobby," she said quietly and then looked at Max, who was eyeing the decoration intimately. Mocha could not see the red-head's eyes behind his shades, but she guessed he was about to panic. She knew this was something he had to take care of without her involving. The step over the threshold from insecurity towards knowledge was the hardest, and that he had to do on his own, no matter how much she wanted to help him.

So she let him be and followed PJ to the bar. Bobby sat quiet for a moment before clearing his throat to get Max's attention. The black-haired boy turned wondering to face his friend. Bobby opened and closed his mouth like a fish a few times before he started.

"Well…eh… Maxie… man! I eh… There's something I… like..." He pinched his shirt nervously. "That I, like, wanna… tell ya…" Max interrupted him with a huge grin.

"What is it, Bobby?" he asked. Bobby's face turned to his knees and he kept staring at his hands. He was sweating and he felt like he was going to throw up any minute.

"It's like… I…" he kept mumbling but Max once again cut him short.

"Dude, have you been smoking again?" The hipster stopped eyeing his fingers and looked straight at Max's suspicious look.

"No!" he said hastily. "Well, yes… but that's not the point!" Max rolled his eyes before placing a gentle hand on Bobby's shoulder. The touch made the other student shiver against his own will.

"You have to stop that! It's…" Max started but this time, Bobby was the one to interrupt.

"Can you please listen to me!" he yelled. The staff at the bar turned to look what was happening and PJ started to walk towards the table, but was stopped by his girlfriend's gentle but firm grip around his elbow. Bobby didn't remember he had risen from the seat, but there he stood, looking down at Max who was staring at him in disorientation. The slim boy's coffee had been spilled all over the table and the cup lay rolling on the polished surface. Bobby scratched the back of his neck in discomfort.

"What I wonder is… have you, like..." He paused and sighed in resignation. "Have you heard anything from Roxanne, lately?" he eventually ended with a forced smile. He was all too aware of Mocha's looks upon him. Max stood up, slowly.

"Roxanne? Bobby, we broke up two years ago. Why would I?" he asked, still in confusion.

"I, no… right. I just wonder if there's any lo-ove goin' on in your life-a, brah!" Bobby boxed Max's shoulder playfully and grinned heavily. He was acting out as his own self again and Max felt some sort of relief, even though he was still deeply confounded.

"I, eh… I need a smoke…" Bobby stated and left the room as quickly as he could without running. PJ walked up to Max.

"Man, what was all that about?" he asked, feeling as confused as Max looked.

"I have no idea, PJ," the other teen said. Still at the bar, the female poet worriedly eyed the doors, which Bobby had disappeared through.

"Boys…" she whispered to herself before taking a sip of her coffee.

**Author's note**

Here it is! Finally, the first chapter all written by me for u/4328333/Nick-ed 's story. Hope you liked it!

Well, probably as much angst in this one as in the previous but hopefully I can ease up the tension soon enough. Bobby is way OOC here but I guess that's how it's going to be when he is put in these kinds of situations. So I guess you (and I) just have to deal with it. But it's fun too, right? ;)

And hopefully I will manage to keep up this drama.

**Random notes**

-Sleepwalking: A person who is sleepwalking usually can't tell for themselves that they are. Lucky for Bobby, PJ was too tired to realize that the excuse was an obvious lie.

-Mocha Girl's performance: I usually write poems myself but this was hard. Making something that's not rubbish but still not too understandable, and at the same time make it sound like she had written it, was quite the challenge... Hope I didn't mess up too much.

-Coffee (again): I still don't know anything about coffee. All those names I just snatched from *drumroll* Wikipedia!


	4. 4 Thoughts of an old friend

**Chapter 4. Thoughts of an old Friend**

Max, Mocha and PJ left the Bean Scene a few minutes later. The two boys expected to find their friend smoking outside but to their surprise, he was nowhere to be seen. The girl on the other hand was not surprised. But, of course, she knew a lot more than they did and if she was in Bobbies situation, she wouldn't stay either. The three walked during silence and when they came to Mocha's apartment they said 'goodnight' and went separate ways.

After a short walk PJ suddenly broke the silence.

"I've been thinking about what Bobby said," he started and looked to the stars above.

"Hm? Which part? The babbling nonsense or the stuttering mumbo-jumbo?" he shook his head and laughed tiredly. PJ laughed too.

"No I mean about Roxanne. You two were perfect together, I mean…"

"Dude, don't go there!" Max held his hands up like a shield against his big fiend. "It's an ended chapter and we were _kids_!"

PJ laughed at Max's panicking features and patted his back friendly. "That's how it usually sounds like…" he said mockingly and blinked at his best friend.

"We broke up, end of story!" Max said angrily and shook PJ's hand off of his back.

"Geez, I'm just teasing you, man," the bigger student said defensively.

"Well don't. It's an 'of limit-subject'." And with that the two friends left the topic and reached their dorm.

They entered the room, only to realize that Bobby was already there and apparently fast asleep. Max and PJ undressed in silence and went to bed without further fuzz. They had a big test tomorrow and even though they weren't as mature as you could ask of a college student, they actually took care of their studies. At least to a certain point.

Bobby lay quiet and listened to his friend's calm breathes. When they had come through the door he had pretended to be asleep. He had no interest in answering any questions tonight and he knew they would've forgotten about his weird…well weird_er_… behavior in the morning. He smiled at this. That's what he liked about Max and PJ; they were simple. If you did something wrong or strange it would be forgiven and forgotten in a day.

But there was one person that wasn't simple, nor would forget so easily and Bobby sighed when he realized he certainly had to deal with her lectures in a not so far future.

The morning came and woke Max with a heavy autumn rain. He stumbled out of bed and got dressed before trying to bring some life into his heavily sleeping friends.

"PJ, come on! We're getting late for the exam," he yawned and slammed one of his shoes against the big students bottom.

"What exam?" Bobby asked sleepily and buried his head deeper into the pillow.

"You know the math exam we've been knowing about for five weeks?" Max said, now rather irritated because of his slow friends. PJ slowly started to climb down from his bed.

"Don't tell me you forgot, Mr. Z," he said and headed for the bathroom.

"Of coooourse I didn't," Bobby smiled and reached for his shades with a sigh. The truth was that he had not even been listening to the lecture where they had been told about the exam. And math… well, math wasn't his strongest subject. But, he thought, it'll go as it goes.

At long last, Max finally managed to get his sleepy friends out the door and off to the exam.

"There will be no talking, no smoke-pauses and defiantly no cheating on my test!" Mr. Handersson said while handing out tests to the nervous students.

"Aye, aye sir, man!" Bobby saluted the teacher and smiled widely. Handersson slammed a paper down on the desk in front of the redhead.

"And no funny business, Mr. Zimmeruski! And take of those glasses," he roared as he watched the offended boy taking of his shades. The teacher eyed Bobbies red eyes suspiciously.

"You should get more sleep before a test," he finally stated and left to hand out the rest of the papers.

The exam started and Bobby looked at the paper with questions in front of him. Did people actually have to know this stuff? What's wrong with a regular calculator? He sighed and scribbled down his name and sat the rest of the test studying everything in the room, but his test.

Max had studied, really studied, this time and to his surprise the test was not as hard as he had thought. He answered question after question and when he looked at the big watch on the wall in front of him he realized that half of the time had already went by. He eyed the room and saw that Bobby was sitting and staring up at the roof. Max shook his head and turned to his own test again.

Suddenly something caught his eyes and he had to turn to look. A girl had risen from her seat to hand in her test. Max knew her only a little. Her name was Anna Downswell and she was a few years older than him. It wasn't her in particular that had caught his attention. It was her hair. Usually she bore it in a long braid down her back, but know it hung lose. The fiery red curls went down her body all the way to her waist and it glimmered in the light from the fluorescent lamps. It reminded Max so much about Roxa.. No! He pushed the annoying thought away and tried to focus on the test. One hour later he handed it in and went to wait for PJ.

Outside the classroom he found Bobby sitting with a coke in his hand. He looked like he had just lost a big amount of money. Max sat down beside him, making the other teen twitch in surprise.

"How did it go?" Max asked and leaned back at the hard wall.

"Well, you can't expect a big genius like me to answer those silly questions. Bobby Z has much more important things to think about," Bobby said and grinned widely. Max laughed and raised an eyebrow.

"Like reflecting over the structure of the ceiling?" he asked.

"Precisely!" the redhead confirmed and took another sip of his coke.

In time PJ also joined them and they went outside. The sun was now shining brightly and even though it was in the end of October, the air was warm. A sudden melody caught through the friends' admiration of the weather.

"Sorry. Got to take this," PJ excused and picked up his phone. "Hello, my little croissant," he answered in the phone. Max looked at Bobby and made a look like he was about to puke. The redhead laughed hysterically.

"It was Mocha," PJ declared when he finally hung up.

"Oh really? Who would've known?" Max said in played surprise. PJ rolled his eyes.

"She wondered if we want to join her for lunch. She's at the cafeteria."

"Sure, I just need to go get my wallet," Max said and ran off.

"I uh… I'm not hungry…" Bobby started and went back into the building, leaving PJ to wait for Max alone. He was in no mood to meet the poet today, or any other day for that matter.

Where was that damn wallet? Max looked through every corner, under his bed and even in PJ's bed. It was nowhere. He dragged out a drawer from the bureau and started searching it frenetically. He twitched as a pair of jeans landed on the floor with a loud rattling. Max went to shake out the content of the jeans' pockets on the floor. His wallet landed with a dull thud, opened up and emptied itself over the floor.

"Great…" Max muttered and sat down to pick up all the coins that rolled around like they were possessed. His gaze darted something red lying under the open wallet. He picked it up carefully.

A brown eyed, red haired girl smiled up at him from a school photography. He sat down on top of the bed and stroke the photo with his thumb. He had forgotten he still had that in his wallet. A sudden sadness took a hold of his heart.

"What happened to us?" he asked the picture silently. But he already knew the answer. He had been too immature, that was where the problem lay.

Before the school ball, they had had a fight about… well, Max couldn't even remember what. It had ended with him storming out from her house, refusing to go the ball with her. And she did what any other seventeen-year-old girl would have done in her situation to not be seen as an unwanted wallflower; she said yes when someone else asked her out.

But Max had gone anyway, without telling her.

As he sat there on the bed, the same anger and shame he felt then when he saw her dancing with another guy came over him. He had made a scene. Jesus, he had called her a 'cheater' in front of the whole school. He blushed slightly at the memory. The breakup a few days later had been a fact.

He didn't want to think about Roxanne. The time with her was now history and, as he had told PJ, they were just kids at that time. And yet he had loved her. He knew it deep inside and maybe… (He stroke the photo again.) Maybe he still did love her.

They were older now. Maybe things would turn out better, if he just gave it one more chance. He threw himself on top of the bed.

"You're not seriously considering this, are you Maxie?" he asked himself. But he was and when he walked off to join his friends at the cafeteria he had reached a decision.

**Author's note**

FINALLY! Here I am with a new chapter and I'm so sorry for the wait. I've been busy in school and had a terrible writers block. But here you go and I'm hoping to finish chapter 5 today as well.

And I know; short chapter is short. I just wanted to give you one from Max's point of view and as you probably already guessed Bobby screwed up big time by talking about Roxanne…

**Random notes**

-The exam: I'm not sure if America has tests like this in the middle of the term or so. I'm a student myself at an university so I just took inspiration from how it is here in Sweden.

-Mr. Handersson and Anna Downswell: Just people I invented to make the story go along. They will probably never be seen again.


	5. 5 Max's decision

The days past by and Friday came. Bobby had managed to avoid Mocha until now. But suddenly it seemed inevitable to see her without causing any suspicion. And it was all PJ's fault…

Bobby and Max sat in the common room and played cards when PJ came bursting in with a huge grin on his face.

"I just spoke to Mocha!" he shouted happily. Max and Bobby looked at him with little interest.

"How rare…" Bobby stated and brought Max to laughter. The bigger student paid no interest in his friends' sarcasm. He sat down beside them and leaned closer to them.

"She told me that tonight at Club Rave a band that does Powerline covers will be playing. Guys, it's gonna be super-cool!"

"Wow, that's cool, man," Max said, but couldn't help but feel a little tingling in his gut as he thought about his history with Powerlines music. It had helped him win a certain girl and Max knew he had to tell his friends about what he had decided to do. But know wasn't the time. The three joined for another game of cards, while they waited for the evening to come.

And the evening came. The three friends, together with PJ's girlfriend went during laughter towards Club Rave.

"I must say, it surprised me that you said yes. I thought Powerline was more for teenagers," Mocha stated as they sat down at a round table.

"It's not the music itself, brah. It's the memories that lies within it. You see young Goof here got his first girlf…" Bobby said but Max silenced him with an angry look.

"Don't push it, buddy," he said and looked away, but Mocha had noticed his heavily blushing cheeks. She casted a concerned look at Bobby but he was too busy with ordering drinks to notice.

The band eventually entered the scene and music that was unknown to Mocha, but held a great bound between the three males started to play through the club. The singer was dressed like a younger, but blonde Powerline and his singing were almost identical. Max, PJ and Bobby were soon consumed by the nostalgic tunes.

Later that evening, back at their dorm, the three friends started to make themselves ready to go to bed. Or that is if 'ready to go to bed' had the same meaning as 'massive pillow fight on the edge of war'. Bobby was sitting in PJ's bed where he was at least a little safer than on the ground. At least, until PJ managed to grab his foot and pull him down.

"Hey, guys," Max suddenly said as he ducked for a pillow thrown by PJ. "I've been thinking, or Bobby, you made me think." The redhead stopped throwing for a second and looked suspiciously at Max. It wasn't a rare thing that he made people think, but usually it was out of confusion than anything else.

"What's up, man?" PJ asked and unwillingly laid down his weapon, aka pillow. Max blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. He thought he had been drinking enough to gain the courage to say this. Apparently he hadn't. But he had started and he had to continue.

"You both know that I liked Roxanne… well a lot. And I was thinking, maybe…" he cleared his throat. Bobby slowly realized that he was holding his breath. _No… _He thought. _No! _The black-haired boy continued in a fast, shaky voice; "Maybe I should call her and ask her out or something." Bobby's heart skipped a beat before it sank to a region somewhere close to his guts. PJ whistled and got over and pulled Max into a headlock, rubbing his already messy hair with his fist.

"I told you, you two never would've broke up," the big student cheered. Bobby's brain was spinning as he walked over to his friends. _Are you fucking blind?! _his mind cried out towards Max, but instead he heard his own voice shout joyfully;

"Alright Maxie-million!" as he bumped Max friendly in the back.

It was in the middle of the night when Mocha Girl's phone called.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, Jesus…" she mumbled as she picked up the angrily ringing phone.

"Yes?" she answered politely but with a touch of irritation.

"I screw up," a dull voice said through the phone.

"Bobby, what did I tell you about calling me within reas…" she started annoyed but cut herself short as she realized that the person in the other end was sobbing. "Where are you?" she asked worriedly and hoped he wouldn't be too far away.

"By the fountain," came the muffled answer.

"Alright buddy, hang in there. I'm on my way."

She arrived to the college park twenty minutes later. Bobby was sitting by the fountain with his head rested in his hands. At his feet lay two dead joints and he was smoking a third one. Mocha sat down beside him and stroke his back slowly. She didn't ask anything, but waited for him to say something. He didn't. Instead he dropped the cigarette on the ground and threw himself around her neck. He was crying unstoppable against her shoulder while his hands clenched at the back of her black coat. She caressed his back but said or did nothing to hurry him. After a few minutes he settled down and let go of her.

"I screw up…" he whispered again and stared at his hands like they were some kind of alien beings. The poetess took his hands in hers. They were cold as ice.

"Explain," was all she said and tried in vain to make eye contact.

"Max is asking Roxanne out…" he raised his gaze and stared at the girl in front of him. "He still loves her and it's my fault!" he blurted out.

"It's not your…" Mocha started but she was interrupted by the hipster's angry voice.

"But it is! I made him think about her! I was the one not daring to tell him… tell him… Fuck!" He hid his face in his hands and Mocha felt how his whole body was rocking. She patted him friendly and did what she knew was best in these situations; she waited. After a while he stopped sobbing and sat right up. His eyes stared into the distance and he seemed far away. When he finally spoke it sounded like a ghost of his former self.

"But it's alright, you know. I mean who cares anyway? I'm just the weirdo. It's okay 'cause I will always be fine. It's okay to hurt someone that will always be fine, right? I guess it is…" he sat quiet for a few seconds before continuing. "And if I wouldn't be okay… if I would just, I dunno', give up? Then no one would think that's strange either 'cause I'm just me, I'm just Bobby. And maybe it's better if I no longer existed…" His words died out as a glowed palm hit his cheek heavily.

Mocha directly regretted her action. She was against violence but sometimes it was needed. She took Bobby's both shoulders and squeezing them lightly, she turned him towards her.

"Don't you dare say that," she said strictly but still gently. "You will not give up, you hear me? Is this how you solve problems back at Spoonerville? Because I have been taught that if you get a problem you deal with it. And despite what you believe in I actually care, Bobby. I like you even thought I for my wildest imagination can't understand why." She smiled and her eyes glimmered happily when she saw Bobby do the same.

"Sorry, it's just a lot right now," he said and looked down at the ground again.

"Yeah," she agreed and eyed the yellow and red leaves that were still struck on the trees. "It's getting cold." Bobby nodded to this even though he didn't really feel it.

"What will you do on the Christmas break?" Mocha asked and tried to ease up the tension. Bobby shrugged.

"Dunno. Go home I guess," he said and looked at the black skies above.

"Go home? You mean to…" Mocha started.

"Yes!" Bobby snapped. "Yes I'm going home to my father and my 'oh so wonderful'- sisters! And yes it's the same goddamn father that I told ya 'bout last time. Happy?" he sighed and leaned against a tree.

"Sorry…again…" he said and shoved his hands down his pockets.

"It's okay. I understand," Mocha said and carried on. "So you have sisters?" To that Bobby only snorted and it took a while before he said anything more.

"I got three older sisters, the youngest is 24 if I'm not completely woozy," he smiled weakly. "It's not that we have a bad relationship it's just that…well they're surgeons, lawyers and designers. I'm just, well, me… I guess I've never been good enough," he ended and looked away awkwardly.

"How about your mother? Can't you talk to her?" Mocha asked carefully. Bobby just shook his head sadly.

"My mum isn't…available…" he responded. For once Mocha was out of words. She just walked up to him and gave him a hug. The angst he radiated was almost painful for her but she could feel something else as well. Something deep inside that wanted to live, that wanted to grow and be strong.

"I can tell that you have greatness inside. Don't waste it on trying to live up to other's expectations," she said, bid him goodnight and went home. Bobby watched her leave.

"Yeah, right," he sighed and lightened another joint.

**Author's note**

Not so much to say about this. I am being me and putting characters through horrible angst *evil laughter* :p

But I do have a story and all you have to do is go along. That's all I'm going to say for now.

This chapter is rather short as well, I'm sorry for that. Hopefully the next one is better.

**Random notes**

-Bobby's sisters: Totally made up fabric to make it clearer why Bobby seems to have so much to live up to.

-The joints: I have no idea really how much you can smoke without getting sick, but I looked it up and it seems that the more you smoke, the more you can take. And if Bobby has been smoking every day since he was 14-15… well you can do the calculation.


End file.
